Red Snark, Black Snark
by csThor
Summary: Sometimes only sarcasm can make you go through a boring reception. Especially if it's the evening of Fey'lya's inauguration as Chief of State. Friendship & Snark for Mirax & Mara.


**Red Snark – Black Snark**

_**Coruscant  
Grand Imperial Ballroom – Imperial Palace  
21:54 hours coordinated galactic time**_

The reception had been in full swing for the better part of three hours already and still the Grand Imperial Ballroom, the name capitalized for its sheer size alone, was packed with dignitaries from the numerous worlds which had flocked to the banner of the New Republic who were parading past the new Head of State to pay their respects.

On a balcony on one of the longer walls the orchestra was stringing together song after song, from a classic Alderaanian Waltz to a more complicated Chandrilan Foxstep, despite being nearly droned out by the general din of hundreds or even thousands of people. And in the center of this three-ring-circus, surrounded not only by sycophants and political opportunists but also by nimbus of light, courtesy of the special effects crew he'd hired, was Borsk Fey'lya.

Mirax shook her head and returned her attention to the drink she was nursing. _What the kark are you doing here girl?_ she sighed to herself and took a sip of the alcoholic concoction. She cast a glance at the bar looking for her husband and found him still in deep conversation with Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. _So much for that early escape__, _she thought morosely.

"We're not that lucky," a new voice cut into her musings. Mirax looked up and saw Mara Jade-Skywalker approaching.

"Sniffing around in other people's minds again, are you?" she quipped with a smirk and smoothed a wrinkle from her gown. "What would your husband say?"

The red-headed Jedi smirked. "Don't need to read your mind. Your face is telling enough."

One of Mirax's eyebrows rose. "That bad?"

Mara chuckled as she sat down in the next chair. "Not really. But if you actually _wanted_ to be here I'd be worried."

That drew a snort. "Yeah. I'm still trying to figure out if Gavin's pneumonia is just a ploy to get out of the obligation to show up."

"It's real. Luke went to check up on him and found him half dead in his bed." Mara shook her head. "I bet he's thanking his lucky stars or the Force for that illness."

"Can you blame him?"

"No, I can't." Mara took a sip of her champagne. "It's a mid-sized miracle that he hasn't already resigned his commission."

Mirax gulped down the last of her drink and placed the tumbler on the table in front of her. "I know us Corellians are said to be compulsory gamblers without a care for odds but even I wouldn't bet against him telling Fey'lya where to shove his orders at some point."

Mara's answer was another snort. "Yeah. I mean look at that self-righteous furball right now. All of his one point four meters of self-centered imagined importance, holding court like old Palps used to, surrounded by yay-sayers and _oh-so-magnificient_ senators who wouldn't know decency if you hit them over the head with it." She swallowed the champagne to quell her rising frustration. "'scuse me while I puke."

Mirax chuckled darkly. "Too bad you gave up on these assassinations."

"Don't tempt me," the Jedi retorted with undertones of dark amusement.

"To think that he got voted in with sixty percent of the votes in the first round …" Mirax shuddered. "Any of those senators ought to have their head examined."

"If they voted for him there can't be much left to examine," Mara jeered. "How's Corran taking it?"

"Silent fury. I suspect having been ordered to fill in for Gavin tonight serves to rub it in even more." Mirax nibbled on her lower lip for a moment. "I think it's the last straw."

"What do you mean?"

"I think he's going to resign his commission."

Both of Mara's eyebrows arched towards the hairline. "Really?"

Mirax nodded. "Wedge, Tycho, Hobbie and Janson have already retired, Ooryl is going back to Gand. That leaves Inyri, Gavin and Corran to hold up the banner of the old guard. But with Fey'lya becoming their Supreme Commander I don't see him sticking around any longer."

"That's understandable." Mara pushed back the cape of her Jedi robe and tossed her braided hair back over her shoulder. "Luke thinks the New Republic is on the verge of going down a very slippery slope. With Leia leaving politics and Mon Mothma in retirement only bel Iblis and Admiral Ackbar have the public standing and the political capital to balance Fey'lya's drive for power. But both are military men with a considerable indifference towards politics."

"Yeah, and the senate's full of self-serving opportunists so Fey'lya's going to feel very much at home there." Mirax hissed in vexation. "Is this what we've been fighting for?"

A server droid trundled past and Mara snatched two glasses with champagne from the tablet it was holding. As she handed one to Mirax she shook her head. "Most certainly not. But I guess that's the inherent weakness of democracy. It draws the kind of people who strive for power and are good at self-promotion. Politicians like Mon Mothma or Leia, whose moral framework is so strong and righteous that they see their job as a service for the public good, are the exception and not the rule. But try to explain that to Leia."

Mirax frowned. "Don't tell me she's still blind on that particular eye."

"I'd never have guessed I'd be forced to say that," Mara said with a sigh, "but in some aspects Leia is more naïve than farmboy ever was. She may be a consummate politician but she's absolutely incapable of seeing just what kind of person most of the senators are these days. I don't know if she's willfully blind or if she can't get her mind around to the fact that all those old-fashioned values Bail Organa drummed into her aren't part of most other politician's moral framework. Sometimes I wonder if she's seeing democracy as a virtue in itself and doesn't understand, or doesn't want to understand, that it needs the right kind of person to make it work as intended."

For a moment they remained silent, then Mirax gave another snort. "What a depressing evening. We have to be here, taking part in a celebration we'd rather not be part of at all, paying our respects to a person who's earned nothing but disrespect and discuss all the depressive side-effects of Fey'lya's inauguration."

Mara chuckled somewhat self-depreciatingly. "In case you haven't noticed, Mirax – all of that _is_ depressing." Then she sat up straighter. "Watch out. He's looking in our direction."

Mirax shot her a curious look and noted the fake smile Mara had put on her face. "Who's looking at us?"

"Self-righteous furball," the Jedi hissed through clenched teeth. "Smile, Mirax. Smile."

She looked towards the dais where Fey'lya was holding court and saw the Bothan direct a smile their way. Imitating the red-headed woman at her side she faked a smile and raised her champagne glass in a mock toast. "May he choke on that champagne."

She heard a gurgling sound and gave Mara a glance from the corner of her eyes. She saw a muscle quiver in the cheek of the Jedi and knew she was struggling to hold her laughter at bay.

Fey'lya dipped his head as a small gesture of respect, or whatever served as replacement in the power-hungry Bothan, before turning his attention back at the group of dignitaries waiting for their cue.

"You know," Mara said keeping the smile on her face, although it had taken on a decidedly sinister look, "I think I've found the perfect way to kill time until our dear husbands decide they've been around long enough."

Mirax arched an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Now the Jedi didn't bother to hide the malevolent expression. "Imagining 101 new ways of killing Borsk Fey'lya."

"I like the way you're thinking," the Corellian remarked and planted a similarly malevolent expression on her face. "I've heard of a procedure some thug from the Outer Rim came up with. It begins with fixing someone to a chair and sticking a funnel into his gullet ..."


End file.
